


Love Comes Softly

by AnonymousMyself



Series: Imagine [17]
Category: Eldarya (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, I'm acually impossibly insecure about this fic lol, Insomnia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Rating May Change, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Weddings, and most certainly WILL change, emotional exhaustion, if I manage to do it this way it's going to be the slowest burn you'll ever see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-01-07 04:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousMyself/pseuds/AnonymousMyself
Summary: “Congratulations!” You look up from your book to see your grandparents standing in your door, your grandfather smiling brightly, your grandmother doing the same but rather reluctantly.“On what?” you ask, as you place the book on your bedside and sit straight to show some respect, which they never demanded from you.“On your engagement.”You blink, dumbfounded, then with a raised brow, waiting for declaration that it was only a joke, but all you get is the bright smile of your grandfather and the uneasiness in grandmother’s posture.“Excuse me..?” you finally ask, and the man repeats what he earlier said.“In a week you’re getting married! Congratulations!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea for a while and since many people told me that yes, this _is_ a damn good idea, I have decided to write this fic and make myself and maybe some few other people happy as well.
> 
> This fic will be long as hell (hopefully) and (God help me) will be updated every Saturday from now on unless I will be too busy to write. I have the initial idea of it partly written down and partly in my mind so things can be altered as we go on and I would like to ask you to suggest things/scenes/happenings that you'd like to see in the further chapters of this story.
> 
> I want to warn you though, that you will most likely get greatly frustrated with some things that you will read here ;)
> 
> Also, note that comments help me greatly with further writing :>
> 
> Now, without further ado, I introduce to you.... _Love Comes Softly_!:

Ezarel accepts his fate without a word. Ever since he was a child, he was well aware it wouldn’t be up to him whoever he was going to be with. His parents’ marriage was arranged as well as any other relationship in the long history of his family. It is only logical he wouldn’t be given any freedom on that matter and so he doesn’t even ask any questions, because he can just keep them for the future. Hopefully, this woman will match him, just like it was in majority in couples of former generations.

He expects his father to allow him to go back to work immediately after getting the message, but he meets with something entirely opposite.

“Don’t you want to know who is she?”

He doesn’t expect it and needs to pause to process the question. Light smile finds its way to his lips.

“Does it matter?”

His father’s expression stays unreadable.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“...” There is a pause, before the younger of the two turns to the door. “It’s not like I have a choice, so I don’t think it does, for now.” He doesn’t have time for it now. There are potions he  _ needs _ to prepare today unless he wants Miiko to lash out at him. He  _ did _ promise he’ll take care of them, after all.

“Just don’t be bitter about not knowing it earlier.”

The younger elf turns on his heel, curiosity winning over him.

“Knowing what?”

His father smirks and an unpleasant feeling blooms in the bluenette.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Great. He’s just dug his own grave.

“Well... now as you ask it, I must say yes.” But maybe he’ll avoid getting buried in it.

“You’ll learn eventually.”

Ezarel swallows a swear. “Dad, I need to focus on work if I don’t want to screw it. And not knowing what you meant will take my mind off it.”

“The knowledge may distract you more,” the older elf warns, crossing arms on his chest. He feels a little bad about this now, but at the same time knows that whenever he would spill this information it’d loom large in his son’s mind.

“Just spill it”

“She’s human.”

* * *

 

[two weeks later]

“Congratulations!” You look up from your book to see your grandparents standing in your door, your grandfather smiling brightly, your grandmother doing the same but rather reluctantly.

“On what?” you ask, as you place the book on your bedside and sit straight to show some respect, which they never demanded from you.

“On your engagement.”

You blink, dumbfounded, then with a raised brow, waiting for declaration that it was only a joke, but all you get is the bright smile of your grandfather and the uneasiness in grandmother’s posture.

“Excuse me..?” you finally ask, and the man repeats what he earlier said.

“In a week you’re getting married! Congratulations!”

This must be a joke. You look at the calendar in hope you missed the fact that this day is April 1 st , but the date is exactly what you saw earlier - Easter.

“Aren’t you happy?” he asks and you realise you have been scowling since he told you the news.

“To whom?”

“What?”

“You said I’m getting married. And I want to know who’s the groom.” You respond, quite harshly, but who can judge you. You have always believed you’ll marry the person you will love and now it seems like you’re going to be a part of arranged marriage.

“A fine man. You’ll get along.” Responds your father, who now stands behind his parents.

“And what’s with that ‘you will find the love of your life someday’ talk you gave me..? You said I’ll find someone by myself and that-”

“I said, you’ll get along.” He cuts your argument in half and you feel tempted to walk to him and slap him across his face. “Don’t be mad, it’s for the best.”

“ _ The best-? _ ”

“You’ll get it later. Can’t you just trust us for now..?”

You grit your teeth and take three deep breaths to calm yourself a little, because you’ve learnt over the years that being angry never helps you with your family, because then they will never let themselves be convinced by a person led by emotions. 

You  _ could _ trust him. After all he was always right before. And you must admit you’ve grown to always listen to what your parents wanted you to do (excluding taking care of the garden, which you hated to do). You just have to deal with it and wait for whatever result. Like every time before... unless...

“In a week..? I can’t back out of it can I..?” you mutter after a long while. “Do I meet him before that? And what with the wedding night?”

“You’re right. You can’t. You will in two days and the wedding night’s up to you two.”

You stare in your father’s eyes, a bitter scowl tugging at your lips. ‘Up to you two’ he said.

“I wouldn’t say it, if I wasn’t sure about it.” He reads you like an open book and it eases your nerves, if only a little. 

Still, one question nags at you and now as you at least partially know what awaits you, you can pose it.

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you later.” This time it’s your grandmother to respond and seeing that you look at her in the way she knows well, she shoos the men away “I’ll handle it from now on” she tells them and the doors close. The whole uneasiness is now gone from her demeanour and it relaxes you a little, even though you don’t know what she was so worried about.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“Confused,” you blurt, before averting your gaze, “And angry, and helpless, and scared, curious too, but mostly confused. I don’t see a point in it. Pops always told me I have the right to make my own decisions concerning everything. And now I don’t have a choice and just don’t get it. What would be so important for any of you to force me into marriage with a guy I don’t even know?”

Your grandmother just smiles, before patting your head affectionately. You can’t help but cringe a little at the contact and she giggles at your reaction.

“Still don’t like it?”

“Hell no,” you mumble and she hugs you tightly.

“You can ask me all about the wedding and your future husband or we can just do something other you’d like to do,” she says after a longer while and you nod, deciding that you want to forget about what awaits you. For now at least.

So you ask about her school life and she happily complies.

* * *

 

[6 days 2 hours 25 minutes till ceremony]

You’re staring at the material laying before you with rather annoyed expression glued to your face.

You’re sure now, that they planned this long ago. There’s no other reason to find this obviously  _ incredibly expensive _ dress on your bed the very next day after the grieving announcement. You had the chance to decline it before. They just didn’t want to give it to you.

You hesitantly reach for it and run your fingers through the silky green material. It’s so smooth and delicate, that you enjoy the touch a little longer than you planned, before lifting the cloth off your covers.

The skirt slips to the ground in fluid motion, its material shining in morning sunlight as if it indeed was made of liquid. It’s a wonder, really. You’ve never seen anything like that apart from in movies, where there were special effects included and it makes you think of how the hell it was made and whether you’re still asleep.

You pass your eyes over the dress, taking in its shape and design. It looks so pretty already that you can’t help wondering how it’d look on you.

You place it back in the place you lifted it from, before walking out of your room to see whether there’s someone in the house. As you walk in the living room, your grandmother jumps from the couch – it’s weirdly energetic for her old age and you worry for her health a little.

“How do you like the dress for tomorrow?” she asks you immediately when you walk up to her. You sigh at this, before giving her weak smile.

“It’s pretty...” you admit and she beams at you, before pushing you towards the kitchen.

“Great, then we’ll make you wear it after lunch.”

You don’t respond and instead dive in the cupboards and fridge to prepare sandwiches and tea for yourself and your grandmother.

“What do you want to drink?” you ask her, putting the kettle on the stove.

“Whatever you do for yourself.”

“Earl Grey? It’s strong,” you warn her, a brow raised.

She just shrugs, before taking a seat by the table.

“I don’t mind.”

Five minutes later you are both sitting in front of each other, you poking your sandwich with a teaspoon you used for stirring your drink.

You decide it’s the time to ask all of the questions and hope she’ll answer at least half of them. You’re not stupid, you’re well aware she must’ve had quite a big part in the whole ordeal and knows the most of everyone. By now you even believe she can be the main mastermind in it. Why would she act the way she did yesterday if it wasn’t at least partially true..?

“Can you tell me anything about my future husband..?”

The moment you look up to see her expression, you almost fall from your chair. She’s grinning so widely you’re afraid her jaw will dislocate.

“Just take in consideration that I don’t know how to joke,” she warns, still smiling, and you send her questioning look. She scratches her neck sheepishly, which brings uneasiness to you. “Alright.” She takes a deep breath, then lets it out and leans back in her chair, her arms now folded on her chest.

“He’s my father’s friend’s great grandson...” she starts but pauses.

“And..?” you nudge her to go on.

“And... God, let me show you something first.” You blink when she gets up and walks in the middle of your parents’ house’s living room. She snaps her fingers and suddenly all of the blinds are down. You jump at the noise they make as they fall, then leap out of your chair when your grandma’s hand is put on fire.

“What the hell-“

“I am not human. Nor is your father and uncle. The same goes for the other side of family, apparently...” she pauses, when you approach her, the kitchen fire extinguisher in your hand “What the hell do you think you’re doing..?” she asks and this time it’s you who pause.

“You may cause a house fire.”

“I won’t.” she rolls her eyes.

“Does it hurt you?”

She smiles. “No.”

“You’re illusionist!”

“No! I told you I’m not human-“

“No, shit. Then what you are?”

She rolls her eyes again and discards the fire, before pushing you down on the sofa and taking the fire extinguisher from your hands.

“I’ll tell you later.”

You grumble something under your breath and she sits by you, now fully relaxed.

“Anyways! We were talking about your future husband!”

“Yeah, then you made a show. I want to know how that illusion works.”

“He’s an elf.”

“Excuse me?” you stare at her incredulously and she sighs, deciding it’s the best to let you calm down first “You said you can’t joke and I can see you have quite interesting sense of humour.”

“Honey, what happened to your beliefs that magic and all kinds of creatures are real..?” she responds when you don’t add anything else.

“It sounds ridiculous,” is your muttered response.

“Well, how about I tell you the whole story and then you decide whether it’s ridiculous..? And you also will be able to check it all tomorrow, when you meet him.”

You bite your lip, before crossing arms on your chest.

“Sure, go on.”

She tells you that your grandfather on your mum’s side is staying in a world neighbouring with this and the divorce was just the easier explanation, because his looks would cause too much commotion among humans. He’s pureblood, but she doesn’t tell you the race. You only learn he’s lived four hundred years before he met your grandmother. It makes you wonder whether it’s the reason that your mother looks so much younger than she is and whether you will meet the same fate.

“The mix your parents made was dangerous.” Your grandmother pulls you out of your thoughts “But they loved each other so much we couldn’t find it in ourselves to take away their happiness. When you were born... we were... worried. We didn’t know which side you’ve taken after and if you somehow didn’t take it all.”

“I don’t understand it,” you mumble and she sighs.

“You probably won’t for a long time...” as you pursue your lips, she continues, “If you have taken after your mother, you’d have to leave this world anyway. If you have taken after your father, the element might’ve been a problem here”

“Element..?” you ask.

“I’m fire, your father’s wind and uncle’s water. You could be also earth... but there exists the fifth and sixth element. Yang’s not a bad occurrence, but it’s opposite is terrifying. And those two can appear only when my race’s mixed with another magic one.” She stops and watches as realisation hits you.

“You’re worried I’m the Yin..?”

“This, or all in one.”

You both stay silent for a while.

“Shouldn’t I have used those powers already if I’m of your race..?”

She shakes her head.

“We never tried to trigger them.”

“So you want to send me to the world my grandpa is living in by marrying me to some elf?”

“Noble.” She adds and you fight the urge to growl at her.

“Why  _ marriage _ ?”

She sighs.

“For protection. There are people in both this and that world that know what I just told you and will want to use you for their benefits. They could do this by simply befriending you and while we all know you’re most certainly not stupid and easy to deceive, it’ll be many times safer if you’ll be under the long family’s friends’ care.” There’s a pause during which you stare at her and she does her best to avoid your gaze.

“If you fell for one of those scum...” she finally mutters in dark voice, “You would later regret all you’ve done for them.”

You don’t respond this time and your grandmother takes few deep breaths, before sending you a tired smile.

“The world you’re going to is called Eldarya. It has its rulers but is managed by the Guard of El that is diverted in four sub-guards: Light, Absynthe, Obsidian and Shadow. I’ll tell you about them all later,” she quickly promises, seeing questions rise in your expression “Ezarel, your future husband, is the head of the second mentioned guard. They specialise in alchemy, medicine and scientific research.”

You can’t help the excitement bubbling in you as those functions roll off your grandmother’s tongue. You have always been interested in anything magical and hearing alchemy actually  _ does _ exist is a wonderful message.

Your grandmother tells you about the other guards, explains where exactly you’re going to stay, talks a little about the marriage ceremony and elvish race. You’re overloaded with information, but still manage to remember most of it if not all and when your grandmother finishes, you’re both after a quickly prepared dinner and the sun is slowly getting closer to the west.

When she has to leave because your grandfather is waiting in the car in front of your parents house (and you know he’s the most impatient person in your family) you still haven’t tried the dress on, but she just asks you to send her a picture on the phone. At the same time you learn from her it will take yet another hour for your parents to come back home because they have been jumping shopping centres in the closest big city all the day so that you two could talk all the things out.

As you watch her put her outside clothes on, she finishes her talk of the day.

“I would love to tell you more, but I’m afraid it’s all I know. You may meet your grandfather in Eldarya, but don’t approach him, he’ll do it first...” she hugs you, then starts for the door. “And honey...” she looks over her shoulder as her hand lands on the door handle, her expression turning stern.

“ _ Don’t _ let it slip that you’re not a human.”  

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how hard I fought myself to not post this chapter earlier.

[5 days 5 hours 10 minutes till ceremony]

To say you’re nervous is a big understatement. You’re terrified.

Your grandmother might’ve told you some things about this world and your fiancé, but you don’t really believe it until you step in the portal. You land in some palace-like building, the exact same construction you used to come here present behind your back only this one not hidden in the green of nature reserve but showed off as a main exposition in an incredibly large beautifully decorated room. There is a man and a woman (that your grandmother calls sorcerers) waiting there. And you’re told this place was just an entrance hall to the whole mansion that you would stay in for the period before you’ve tied a knot.

As much as the  _ mansion _ ’s size and splendour disturb you, you’re not looking forward to leaving it. The prospect of what awaits you out of its walls more unappealing than rotting in the grand halls and rooms.

As you walk after the sorcerers who are silently talking with your grandmother in language you’ve never heard, you try to take in the area while your sight is running back to the two all the time. They both look familiar. You can’t quite put your finger on it but you feel like you know them both and it’s a pretty disturbing thought.

With a sigh you decide that it’s better to just watch what surrounds you rather than the familiar strangers. So you move your eyes permanently to the walls, decorations, furniture and rooms that you walk by. You stop your exploration though on the sound of your name.

“I’m sorry we have been neglecting you up until now.” It’s the sorceress that slows down to talk to you. From up close you see she has the eyes of your mother.

“I don’t mind. I’m not much of a talker, honestly.”

You note her smile’s pretty.

“It still isn’t nice to act as if you weren’t present here. I’m Elva.” She reaches out her hand to you and you shake it, mimicking her expression. As you glance down at your palms you notice her skin’s just a shade darker than yours.

“I imagine you’re not feeling at home here..?”she continues and you sigh before moving your gaze to the front.

“Did my body language betray me?” She chuckles at your ironic question.

“You could say that.” When you look at her questioningly her smile turns sad. “I wasn’t very joyous myself when I learnt I had to leave Earth in order to not be busted.”

“You lived on Earth?” You can’t hide the happiness showing at the fact you aren’t the only one here who is forced to live in a world they don’t recognise as theirs.

“I did, my father did as well but he decided to come here with me when technology became too advanced to hide for long.”

“Oh...” you pause for a moment, before posing another question. “Where is he now..?”

She sends you a coy grin, arms crossing on her chest covered in gold and brown as she nods in the direction of the people walking before you.

“He’s talking with your grandmother there.”

You blink before following her gaze. The man your grandma talks with looks only few years older than Elva.

“That’s...” you don’t know a word that would describe how you feel about this revelation which wouldn’t possibly offend the woman you’re talking with.

“Disturbing..?” she catches on fast. “I thought so too for some time myself, but I got over it. You will too, eventually...”

“Maybe, I guess...” you mumble and when she claps her hands together you almost jump.

“Great! Now... what we were at..?”

“That you lived on Earth before arriving here..?”

She continues the story, tells you she arrived in this world twenty years prior and helped her father work with the portal they have in their mansion ever since then. She explains it was actually the one they used to come to Eldarya back then and tells you what it’s used for now.

“Food supplying..?”

“This world’s food doesn’t have much nutrients. The races that came here from Earth simply cannot eat it or we would starve” she explains.

“So you bring the food from Earth... do you have some farms there or something..?”

She’s silent for a while.

“Actually... we didn’t up till now.”

“...”

When your stare makes her look to the side you stop.

“So you stole up until now? And why ‘up until now’?”

She sighs then catches your wrist to make you follow her through the door further in the corridor and to your right. You don’t really want to pay attention to the surroundings now but you can’t help the awe you feel the moment you step in the room. The walls and carpet are of soft violet shade which accompanies the white and silver furniture matched with sweet pink fabric of the curtains, couch and the armchairs. There are mysterious plants placed in different locations of the room too and a clear mirror without frames standing close to the door.

“Meeting place” she quickly says as she pushes you on the couch.

You immediately tense up at the mention of the fact you’ll meet your fiancé in this place not long from now. It’s quite a wonder though that you actually forgot what you were doing where you were as you chatted with Elva.

“It’s incredibly hard to make deals with farms or concerns when the people the supplies are for cannot be shown to the possible third parties. People would ask to whom they sell the food and this may bring another race war to our worlds” she sighs and scratches her neck right below her ear “You’re here mostly to keep you safe from those who desire power you may grant. But also, you’re a link that will allow us to connect the worlds more often. And in exchange of protection your family will gather the supplies in more legal ways... We didn’t ask for the last part of the deal as keeping you out of ‘bad guys’ sight and using your presence here as catalysis lay in our interests but it will help a lot and I think you can agree with it.”

As you slowly nod, she sends you a tired smile.

“Eldarya is a wonderful place to live in. The magic, different species of animals and plants and all kinds of faeliennes living here will surely interest you. What’s your occupation again..?” she changes the topic and you decide to follow her lead.

“I’m a writer”  _ and a trained sociologist _ .

She blinks then grins even wider than earlier.

“Do you have any published stories yet?” You smile seeing how excited you just made her and nod.

“Two actually. They’re separated works.”                                                                                          

“What genre? Can I read them?”

You respond to her questions, now getting relaxed in the fluffy cushions. You’re quite curious what caused such reaction from her so you ask about it and she explains that nowadays there are little writers in Eldarya and the books coming from Earth are usually better, humans (seemingly) having greater imagination than faeries. On this revelation you start wondering about your own writing. Both of your books ended as bestsellers, so it might’ve been the problem of world the writers lived in..? and their knowledge..?

As you continue your conversation, an hour passes in a breath and suddenly the door opens and Elva’s father walks in the room. Neither of you notices him at first, the both of you so engrossed in your chat that the outside world ceased to exist for you long ago

“If you want to learn some faery languages, Elva can show you to our library later.” You snap your head in the man’s direction and you blink, for you need a moment to process what he just said. “We have many books about this world’s dialects. You can take what you wish of those with you.”

“I would love that...” you manage after a second and he smiles warmly down at you.

He looks like he wants to add something then, but he doesn’t and you don’t press on the matter. He nods in Elva’s direction, his posture indicating he wants to talk with her so she excuses herself and walks out of the room after him. In their place another woman enters and asks you if you want something to drink. You ask for some tea and when she leaves you get up to explore the room.

You trace the ornaments on the furniture. The swirls are delicate and at first look seem to not follow any special pattern. The more you see of them though, the more you’re wondering whether they aren’t connected to each other and indeed, when your back hits the door, you’re met with a violet and silver painting of the night sky made of the swirls.

You take your time to take in this picture, breath caught in your throat at the beauty of this view. There’s something off about it though and after a while you realise what it is – one of the chairs is a little out of place disrupting the perfect image.

You quickly move to it to alter its position a little and when you move to see the result, a new voice startles you.

“It’s perfect now.” You turn around and come face-to-face with a man that doesn’t really resemble any other inhabitant of this place you’ve met as of now.

He looks young, something around your age, but you decide to not bet on the fact he’s in his twenties remembering about Elva and her father that you have yet to know the name of. Even compared to the sorcerers he looks extraordinary. It may be the intensive blue-green of his eyes or the fact his hair is of vibrant blue colour that you’d take for fake if not for the fact his eyebrows and lashes match the hue and you don’t really want to believe there are dyes in this world that would grant such look. It could also be his pointy ears, not to mention the fact he’s probably the most handsome man you’ve met in your entire life. Which doesn’t change the fact you don’t know shit about him and thus you’re not planning to trust him anywhere soon in the future, especially since he’s closed the door after entering the room.

When you don’t respond for a while the elf (yes, he must be an elf and you’re going to call him that until someone tells you otherwise) rises his brows, something playful flashing in his expression even though he still looks a little tense.

“Am I a nice view, miss?”

You pause before supporting some of your weight on the chair you just corrected.

“Sure.” The irony dripping from your voice as you sneer up at him is obviously not what he expected your reaction to be “What do I owe the pleasure of your presence here, oh thou  _ nice view _ ?”

He huffs out a chuckle while he shifts, showing a kind of discomfort. You wonder what’s up with him.

“I think... I just ran away” he admits eventually and this time it’s you whose brows rise.

“From what?”

He doesn’t respond and you don’t push for the answer. It’s none of your business honestly as you yourself have your own problems that you wouldn’t want to share with a stranger.

But when silence falls on the both of you, you can’t refrain yourself from staring. It’s an awful habit you gained at uni and you’re well aware your gaze makes uncomfortable anyone conscious of it. And indeed, the man shifts again, lips twitching in a smile that feels a little too nervous. He almost says something but footsteps of two people approach the door and the both of you hear two male voices talking. One is calm and known to you – this of Elva’s father, the other is a mystery, but judging by the fact your companion’s shoulders tense at its sound, this must be whom he ran away from.

“I’m really sorry, I can’t believe he would act so childish out of a sudden” the alien voice sounds strained when you compare it to the sorcerer’s.

“You’re one to talk” there’s a chuckle “I believe he just got away to compose himself before meeting the girl. You did the exact same thing when you were supposed to meet with his mother.”

They pass the door and as Elva’s father’s voice fades, he gets a scoff in response.

You mute out the talk and move your eyes on the man standing before you.

You must have made a  _ wonderful _ first impression on your fiancé.

“Now, this is what I would love to run away from too” you say and he sighs, resignation showing in his posture “You picked a wrong room for that, though.”

As you tell him this, you fiddle with your dress’ sleeve, suddenly feeling shy. And when he asks what you meant, you simply introduce yourself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just woke up after a night spent on clubbing.  
> Apart from the fact we have little time for ourselves, student life's super awesome, I tell you :'>  
> Now enjoy  
> Though it's not an order  
> Boy, do I hope everything's alright and ic...

[5 days 3 hours 41 minutes till ceremony]

It’s your time to kick your heels as he stares down at you, his face devoid of emotions, which makes it impossible for you to guess what he may be thinking.

Few seconds, which feel like minutes, tick by and you have to resist the urge to fall on the armchair you’re gripping onto, scared to offend him with an improper behaviour, because as much as you’ve learnt from your grandmother the day before, you still know nothing about this world’s (or elves’) behavioural culture.

Just when a thought passes you that you’re going to stay in place in those positions till hell freezes over, the door opens again.

“Sorry this took so long.” Elva, who’s holding a tray with two cups and a teapot, freezes in place when she sees the elf. She quickly snaps out of it though and places the tray on the table.

“I see you two met earlier than planned,” she comments, a half-smile gracing her lips, but a moment later her brow rises as she sees the man reaching for the door’s handle. “Where do you think you’re going? You haven’t introduced yourself yet, have you?” She sounded like a mother scolding her child who just tried to steal the cookies.

He pauses, then after a long exhale turns around and walks up to you, his hand swiftly reaching for yours, lips brushing over your knuckles in a bow.

“Enchanted to meet you, Miss. My name’s Ezarel.” As he says that, he sounds strangely collected but he prolongs the time he stays in this position and when he straightens up you can still notice the mixed feelings that pass through his eyes. You realise he’s probably as terrified of the prospect as you are, maybe having some more reasons to be upset about this situation than you would have.

“A pleasure to meet you too,” you manage out, glad it sounds more natural than you’ve expected. You still don’t know what to say or do next, the two of you once again frozen in place. Even if this time for just a second before he takes a step back, letting go of your hand. The atmosphere is still too tense and when Elva motions for you to sit down and you comply, the fingers of your right hand twitch, still feeling the lingering warmth of the elf’s palm.

The sorceress starts a little talk with your fiancé, probably noticing you have no idea what to talk about and you’re thankful because you’ve never been much of a talker with newly met people. So you listen as she asks about the latest happenings in the Eel and watch how her small talk coaxes the man. You now feel calmer too and you wonder what caused such a nice and sudden change of atmosphere.

You accept the cup when Elva pours tea for you and focus your sight on it, still listening intently. You know nothing about them and this world and it’s nice to not be the one bombarded with questions for once.

From the tone of Ezarel’s voice and some signs in his body language, that you’ve noticed before focusing on your tea, you read that he doesn’t mind an interview like that and it makes you think that maybe, just maybe you two may get along eventually since you usually prefer to listen and not talk.

It doesn’t last long though until Elva excuses herself and leaves the room, silence falling on the both of you. As she does so, you glance up from your tea and right into green irises that seem to have been watching you for a longer while already.

“Am I a nice view, _mister_?” you mutter and his lips twitch up, eyes glinting with amusement.

“Should I say truth or politely agree?” he muses and you can’t stop yourself from scoffing.

“Way to gain your fiancé’s heart.”

He grins and you sigh with a smile before placing the cup back on the plate.

“So now what?” you ask as you lean back on the armchair Elva sat you in “Are we going to talk about likes and dislikes and whatsoever? I don’t think what I learnt about you so far is enough to know you as a person.”

“And what do you know?” His brow rises, the biting smile still intact.

“Family and job related things. Stricte informational.” You shrug and challenge him with a smile “Have you cared enough to learn at least as much about me? Or maybe you’re too busy?”

“I’d prefer to learn about you from yourself and not other people.”

You can’t contain the surprise showing on your face at this statement. Judging by his earlier comment and the fact he is still stressed you’ve expected him to rather act uninterested and not this... pleasantly honest all of a sudden.

“Surprised?” You can’t tell if he’s amused or unhappy with your reaction, your miscalculation catching you off guard for long enough to not recognise his body speech.

“A little,” you decide to admit. “I expected different excuses.”

He lets out a breath at that.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” you let out with a shrug “I would go crazy stuck with a husband who has no sense of humour.”

“If you say so” he reaches out for his cup feigning indifference but you notice his content by the small pull of his lips as he takes a sip.

The silence between you two does not last long this time though as you quickly engage in a loose conversation about things that interest you about each others’ worlds of origin. It’s pleasant to say at least and quickly turns heated when you find a topic that immerses the both of you – you because you’re impossibly curious, him because of obvious passion – alchemy.

The sun is already closing on the horizon when suddenly the both of you are snapped out of the topic by sudden flicker of lights in the room. There’s no one in it besides you two, but you suddenly feel you’ve been watched for a while and as you fumble with the hem of your dress Ezarel for the first time notices the glass door hidden behind the curtains on your side.

“Care for a walk?” he offers, while standing up on which you nod and accept the hand he offers to help you up.

Your legs are a little stiff for sitting so long in one position so you take a second before joining the man, who is now reaching for the glass doors’ handle.

As you walk out on the juicy green grass, you’re surprised to find the air to be not necessarily cold. The cause of this being the fact the garden is situated in a greenhouse which you notice when you look up thanks to its frame crossing the sky with delicate silver swirls and keeping the construction in place.

The delicate move of the air is still a little chilly though and in few seconds you can feel the small hair on your uncovered arms rising. Maybe it wasn’t a genius idea to leave the warmth of the possibly watched room and give yourself up for the cold of the middle-spring evening.

“Here.” You’re surprised when soft green material matching your dress is put on your shoulders “I saw it laying on the cabinet close to the window.”

“Thank you.” You smile softly up at Ezarel and with his own smile he shifts, before clearing his throat.

“Should we maybe..?” He gestures for the garden and you nod, the both of you in slow peace moving away from the violet room.

Neither of you make a sound, but the silence between you two is no longer awkward. If you were to say how it was for you, you’d go with very comfortable. The first impression you’ve made on each other might’ve not been the best, but the conversation after it made you believe you could get along quite well if only you tried.

And as you walk, wondering what future will bring and with awe taking in the new environment, you fail to notice it’s now you who is watched.

“At first I thought you were the sorcerers’ family.” It’s not until he says it, do you even notice you might’ve forgotten you’re not the only person in the garden.

“Why?” bringing the neckerchief closer to your body, you look up at him, question brought in your expression.

“You look similar.” His shoulders lift in a light shrug to show it’s not really important. But this response makes your thoughts go back to the conversation you had with Elva before meeting him today and her features you found familiar.

“You don’t have to be related to have another person’s looks, even if just a little of it,” you respond swiftly, your small inner turmoil probably left undetected.

And indeed, the elf smiles at that and agrees, your small walk quickly resumed and this time supported by a loose conversation about everything and nothing.

[4 days 14 hours 41 minutes till ceremony]

You’re lying in the bed in the room (or more like complex of rooms) in sorcerers’ mansion that were chosen for your stay here. You’re pretty sure midnight has passed some time ago, yet you still are unable to fall asleep, your thoughts still running after the eventful day.

You have to admit that you took quite a liking to the elf and you are sure that if everything goes right, you two will become at least good friends.

What bugs you is the future and the resemblance Ezarel pointed out on your walk. Your grandmother didn’t tell you the name of the races you may have inherited from your parents’ blood so you were left without any clues as to who may be your other grandfather that lives in this world. All you know is that he left due to the fact he would raise suspicions with his looks and this means he can both be some kind of an inhuman creature or this may be because of another reason. But it feels a little off to you. For it to be so simple...

You let out a huff as you turn in the bed, eyes focusing on the Oakwood table that stands by the door. You hate the fact you’re so bent up on details and possible scenarios for this is probably the most ridiculous theory you came up with in a long time. As much as you thought they were nice and welcoming when you stepped into this world you remember the unwelcoming icy coldness that did not leave neither of their eyes even when Elva got excited by your field of work. All you are for them – you think – is catalysis of sorts and an object to hide, maybe even eliminate if they have a chance.

A shiver runs down your spine when you think of this possibility and you toss to another side. Now that would be an awful scenario and unless the sorcerers genuinely believe everyone deserves to live peacefully without the danger of someone using you on your every step you think this scenario is very probable.

Keeping this thought in your mind, you toss and turn the entire night and don’t get any sleep even when the sun rises again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remembered I was supposed to post this ^^"  
> There's also a possibility I'll lenghten the time between updates to 10 days or 2 weeks because I find it hard to find time to write and I don't want to leave you hanging after I give you the last written chapter ;-; (yes, I have still few written in advance but we are getting closer and closer to the last one, I cri)

[2 days 1 hour 34 minutes till ceremony]

You sigh lightly as you look at the white material before you, the somewhat uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu picking on your nerves. This dress, unlike the other one, fills you with mixed feelings of which you felt only part the last time.

You haven’t slept well the past few nights, the first spent at the mansion was sleepless and left your writer’s notebook marred by crossed out sentences. Insomnia happens to you sometimes, especially when you’re hit with a surge of inspiration but it’s rarely almost a whole night and it’s not happened yet that you haven’t slept at all without even a small nap in between.

If it’s visible in your features, the sorcerers haven’t said anything yet during the shared meals or occasional conversations when you meet any of them in the grand corridors or rooms. But the stress you feel while in this place and which makes you sleepless makes you eager to leave it as quick as possible. On further consideration you’re still scared by the prospect of marrying a man you know close to nothing about. You two might’ve clicked well when you first met but that was just the first impression and a cursory view as any person has so many traits that it is simply impossible to know how they truly are by just one few-hours-long conversation.

You reach your hand out to touch the white silk laying on the bed and sigh when you feel how soft and delicate it is. You’re actually afraid you may tear it if you’re not careful enough but you know it have been shown to you two days before the wedding for you to try it on in search of any imperfections. So you carefully lift it and examine the material in the midday light, your eyes taking in the delicate floral design in amazement.

“How about trying it on?”

You jump when you hear Ezarel’s voice behind you.

You turn your head to him in order to confirm it indeed is who you heard and when you do, you drop the dress back on the bed.

“It’s a bad omen when the groom sees his bride in her dress before the ceremony,” you snap at him and when his brow rises you quickly mutter, “I... it’s human superstition.”

He pursues his lips a little at that and you decide it’s better to change the topic.

“What are you doing here?”

“Visiting you, obviously,” he plays along swiftly but the mood is not there that much anymore. You must’ve hit the sore point – you realise.

“In my room?” this needs to be answered, though. “I could’ve been indecent.”

He shifts and clears his throat, almost invisible hue of pink finding its way to his cheeks and ears. “I should’ve knocked, I’m sorry.”

A moment of silence follows before a smile slips on your lips.

“You ran away again,” you muse quietly, though unsure, and to your delight the pink on his face strengthens in hue. You let out a heartfelt laugh, before nodding in direction of the other door in the room that he’s further from. “There’s another living room in this complex. I think we’ll be more comfortable there, if the main one’s occupied.”

He follows you without a word, his eyes lingering on the white material until you two leave the room, which you of course do not notice as you’re occupied by the mental map you’ve made of the complex walking it down the day before.

You two walk through a room that seems to be a small library, before walking in a large space of the living room. Its walls are soft yellow, the couch and the armchairs padded with pastel orange material resembling suede in its texture. The coffee table’s made of oaken wood which builds all other furniture present in the room as well. There is a lit fireplace there too, close to the door leading to the library and your bedroom and the wall neighbouring it practically consists of two large windows and glass doors leading outside to the garden. You wish you could go outside like the last time but it’s colder today and your dress is much too light for the current weather, so you ought to stay inside.

You two sit down. This time you end on the couch, your fiancé sitting in the armchair right by your left, partly facing you. There’s a moment of rather not that comfortable silence before the man notices the book laying on the coffee table a little further to your right.

“Is that about Elvish?” he sounds utterly shocked as he moves his eyes back on you.

You feel unwanted warmth rising to your face at that. You completely forgot you stacked few books from the sorcerers’ library that you wanted to browse through, one of them being this basic grammar book that you started reading as the first one.

“I... ugh” you massage your neck in embarrassment before uttering “I got interested.”

On one hand you want to know what he thinks of it, on the other though you’re afraid you might’ve just insulted him in some way. Maybe it’s a language only those of the race are allowed to use or just ‘being a human’ makes it unforgivable thing to study it..?

“Can I?” you blink at his question but quickly hand him the book as he opens his palm, and he flicks through it, a small frown finding its way on his face making you anxious.

“I haven’t seen one in quite a while,” he says after a while and you blink, not really getting what he means by that “You should actually learn from a user but I’m sure I had a better textbook somewhere in my collection that I could give you later if you’d like..? This-” he lifts the book to accentuate what he’s talking about “-is not fully accurate and you’d have to later put more work into smoothing up your language.”

“I would love that, thank you.” You relax slightly, a smile finding its way to your face.

As he nods in response, silence falls on the both of you and this time it’s as comfortable as it’s awkward, making you wonder whether you should try to start any kind of conversation or better let it be. You pick the latter, your sight wandering on different objects in the room, while avoiding Ezarel’s face, finally settling on the fireplace. The flames’ fluid moves make you occupied while the time passes on the both of you stubbornly avoiding eye contact and sound.

It quickly turns tiring, then downright suffocating, and your body itches to get up and run away before you go crazy from the atmosphere alone.

“Do you still want to see me in that dress?” you break the silence at last, moving your eyes on the man but he shakes his head.

“I can wait those two days for that.”

You feel bile rising to your throat at him voicing the amount of time left of the both of you being free. You manage to force a silent “Okay,” though before the room turns silent again.

“Are arranged marriages a common thing between humans?”

You shot a surprised look in Ezarel’s direction when he asks that. You can’t very much comprehend why he would ask that or why he would even try to start a conversation in any way at all.

“Why do you want to know that?” you murmur and he shrugs his shoulders at that.

“Just curiosity. We haven’t really had a glimpse on your culture since middle-ages.” It doesn't sound as a lie but it doesn't sound that thrutful either.

“There are some places where they are but those are not the majority. We usually marry the person we love...” you can’t help the sadness showing in your features as you say that.

“Do you have anyone like that on Earth?”

To say you’re once again surprised would be a mistake. You’re utterly shocked by the topic he chooses.

“No.” You are honest with him though, predicting he may have a greater aim in it. Truth be told, you’ve been in love only once and it didn’t turn greatly for you. “Do you?”

“I prefer to occupy myself with work, so no.” - Another small piece of information you tell yourself to remember, as it seems like one of the bigger importance.

“Would you mind telling me more about your traditions?” he questions then and you let out a sigh, before nodding.

“But only if I get the same in return.”

“That’s fair.” He nods his head and after that you tell him how different wedding ceremonies (that you know about) look on earth this days and you learn that here they usually have similar tradition, then the topic switches further, to the cultural development, to parties, music, other forms of art, the little bit you could tell him about the radio, cinematography then television. You learn there are no things like films in this world, the only source of entertainment being books that are limited, conversations, feasts and other happenings that often demand exercise but that are rare. You can’t help but wonder whether you’ll be able to be happy here, far away from all the attraction your home world offered. You honestly just mourn the fact you have been to the cinema so rarely, although you had all the time and money you would want to go on some more interesting films. It’s a pity, really, that you no longer will be able to watch any of your favourite documentaries, motorisation programs and series you’d have yet to discover. You absolutely do not know how your life will look here, in Eldarya, a medieval fantasy world with possibly advanced something else that is not what you’d call entertainment. Even if you’ve been always interested in different cultures.

He’s in the middle of describing to you the customs of summer solstice festivities, that sound awfully familiar to what you remember reading about from antique history books, when a sound of something soft hitting glass resonates through the room.

Ezarel pauses and looks at the door leading to the garden, before quickly getting up to open it and as you follow his gaze, your breath stops for a moment. There’s a large dog standing outside, its paw resting on the glass. It’s black with violet-pinkish ornaments adorning its fur that in some places merges in a substance that looks and moves like a fire. Its left eye is burning pinkish-red, the right is golden and set on the elf, who lets it inside.

“Why are you here, Shaïtan?” It looks like it walked straight from hell, but it’s beautiful and you watch as it lets out a short bark in response before its nose hits Ezarel’s outstretched hand and the flames form a leaf of paper on it, surprisingly (for you) leaving no damage.

The elf doesn’t have to change position to let the animal hand him the message, but he takes half a step back to have more space to read it. As he does, his face contorts in a frown looking like annoyance and worry at the same time. At that time, the dog stays in place, its eye focused now on your unmoving form and tail wagging slightly from side to side close to the floor. It looks exceptionally intelligent – you think as you find yourself studying it back as long as it keeps the eye contact, breaking it when Ezarel crumples the paper in his palm.

“You can go back to Nevra, I’ll head back to the headquarters as soon as possible.”

It swings its tail in response, before it turns back to the garden and dashes over the grass, startling in a frightened cry a maid walking to one of the buildings visible outside.

“What was that..?” you mutter and the elf casts a glance your way.

“Black Gallytrot. The only tamed one I know of, but don’t let that fool you. If you notice anything resembling her-”

 _“-do not let it close_.”

You feel a shiver running down your spine at warning in his tone and you nod to assure you will do as he says.

He sighs after that.

“I’m afraid I must call our meeting short.”

“It’s fine.” You shrug, getting up to be able to walk him to the corridor. “Next time you have to tell me the rest about festivities, though.”

“How demanding,” he muses, as he walks half a step behind you so that you can walk through each door first, even if you see from the way he moves that the call must’ve been urgent. You must admit it’s quite a satisfying thought that not only does he have sense of humour and seems highly intelligent but is a gentleman as well. Not to mention the looks and his position – you’re quite the lucky bride, it seems.

“I’m sorry if it bothers you, but I’m not going to change anything about myself,” you respond with a smile and he places his left palm on the handle.

“Hmm, guess I will have to live with this fact.” His other hand swiftly sweeps yours up and as he opens the door his lips dab your knuckles, before he exits your rooms, slightly amused expression on his face. And you feel something in your stomach flutter at the unexpected gesture.

[1 day 20 hours 12 minutes till ceremony]

You’re walking down the aisle in library dedicated to magical races – faeries, like they call it – in search of information on the animal you’ve met today. Many books seem to be written in languages you do not recognise, some seem to be ancient Greek or Latin, there are many in Elvish – you’re able to tell it because you recognise the letters you’ve seen earlier in the grammar book. Those you know you’ll be able to read, you flick through but you can’t seem to find what you are looking for.

“Here you are!” A voice startles you and you quickly turn to its source. It’s the sorcerer, who now walks in your direction, a spherical bundle resting in his arms.

“You seem to have been looking for me.” You state the obvious, while putting the book you’re holding in place and he nods, one arm still supporting the bundle while he works with the other on untying it.

“Almost every person in this world owns a companion and I think you should have one as well. They’re a great help when one wants to send messages and they often bring treasures like potion ingredients from their escapades. Not to mention, they’re a great company.” You listen as he talks, the knot on the material finally giving way to his ministration and the fabric falling to reveal a golden egg, “I allowed myself to make a pick without asking you for preferences, just basing it on my observations and what your grandmother mentioned about you.”

As he says that, he hands you the egg and you reluctantly take it in your hands, not really knowing what to do with the freshly received treasure that not only looks but also _feels_ like gold.

“Thank you?” you let out as you glance down at his gift. _What do I do with it now..?_

As if sensing your question, the sorcerer smiles down at you.

“I asked Elva to put an incubator in your room. You just have to place the egg in it and wait for it to hatch. We also made sure to find a big stack of its preferred food – rose petals, so you won’t really have to worry about it. At least for a little over a month, but after that it will be big enough to be able to find food for itself, themselves.”

“I see, thank you...” as you pause, suddenly you think about what he told you a while ago “So you have a companion yourself? How do they look like?”

“It’s not an O’orulay like yours but I can show her to you when she’s back in the mansion.” when you nod, he glances at the bookshelf you’re standing by. “Are you searching for information on your ancestors?”

“Ah, no... I wanted to read about... how he called it... Black Gallytrot and animals similar to it..?”

His brows rise in surprise and it takes a moment for him to respond.

“Companions are not faery, so you won’t find anything about them in this aisle.” He gestures at you to follow him and leads you further into the library.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn a thing about Elva. Or more like about her skills.

One hour. Only one hour and twenty minutes until you are no longer single. It’s quite a terrifying prospect, really. To know in hours and minutes about a thing of such significance and for sure.

Still wearing your nightgown, you’re sitting in a large bathroom on a stool, your fingers brushing through soft golden fur of your O’orulay. You named him Amory, settling on this name with a small help from Elva, who told you that names one gives companions can also influence their character. And since he’s small, he’ll use some bravery. Not to mention the other meanings of this word.

Behind you is standing the sorceress, who’s gently combing through your hair in order to give you a coiffure that would match the occasion, your dress and stay simple which you asked for.

It’s good you like it when people play with your hair – you think as you keep your eyes fixed on the purring animal. It’s honestly the fluffiest and cutest thing you’ve ever seen and ever since it hatched you find it hard to not squeal every time it stirs or snuggles to you with that absolute trust for its owner. You’re incredibly thankful to the sorcerer for gifting you a little friend like this. Which is much cuter and easier to snuggle to than his Melomantha.

When you think of it, Amory’s presence is the only thing that currently keeps you relatively calm as you wait for Elva to finish the braiding and let you inspect her work. It takes her approximately ten more minutes to take a step back and call for you to get up. Which you do after placing the O’orulay on the tiled floor.

As she leaves to check up on your dress, you study your reflection, happiness at the fact you’re not forced to wear any make-up bubbling in your chest. The sorceress has given you a look that you associate with medieval fantasy films you’ve watched – most of your hair is let down, few small braids running through it on both sides. Two sets of braids striated with some silvery threads meet at the back of your head. It’s simple but at the same time feels regal, not to mention practical, since now no stray hair will fall in your eyes.

When you hear your name called you take a deep breath in and walk back to the living quarters, where Elva tells you to call her in if you’ll have trouble putting your dress on. She leaves then and you proceed with the dressing up, well aware you don’t have time to feel depressed. The sorceress knows how to make you focus it seems.

You call her in when you have everything put on, to fasten up the back of the sewn-in corset and the sleeves of the dress. After that she completes your look with delicate looking silver jewellery.

When she’s done she takes a step back and grins seeing her work, while you move around to see if it’s still not too tight or in any way uncomfortable. It still fits you perfectly though and you are honestly just amazed with how well it is sewn – to feel so delicate and light in weight as if you wore nothing than a foam. At least you won’t trip from the weight of the material.

There’s one question you have to ask though.

“What about shoes..?”

“That’s right, we haven’t told you about all of the customs,” Elva gasps and your brow rises in question “While many races don’t have very specific wedding ceremonies and mostly tend to only exchange vows, there are few that have their own traditions.”

“Well, from what Ezarel told me, they seem to resemble those from Earth..?” you respond and she smiles.

“There was a tribe of humans who lived close with the elves and who had long kept the customs until those were changed by the church. You may have heard of those since I believe some humans are now going back to that tradition due to its nature. Anyway...” as she glances through the window, she decides to get back to the topic, since you don’t have that much time “The way your dress is sewn is one of them, as is the fact the ceremony is held barefoot. It takes place outside during spring or summer and there are protecting spells cast right before and after the vows are made. That’s what you will take part in, at last.”

“So elves are all about nature?” you ask a little perplexed and she sighs.

“Never, ever say that again, especially not to any of them. It’s about the warmth of the seasons and the strong flow of the magic due to the thicker air. If the wedding took place in the winter, not only would everyone be cold but the protecting spells would be easy to break. It’s as simple as that.” 

You nod and she smiles again, her eyes turning soft which rather surprises you since till now they haven’t really met the emotions she showed with the rest of her body.

“If you’d like I could calm you down again..?” she proposes and you look at her questioningly.

“Again?” when was the first time?

Then it clicks and you gasp while she keeps on smiling.

“Devious” you mutter while her brows rise. She was behind that calm atmosphere the first time-

“So?” she presses on and you nod while fiddling with your sleeves. You haven’t really realised you’ve been doing that.

“I’d love that.”

It comes suddenly this time, hits you like a wave – the calmness forcing both your body and mind in relaxed state. You simply accept the fact it’s because of lack of time, not really thinking ill of the undoubtedly frightening power Elva possesses thanks to it working quickly on you. And when she reaches out to you, you grasp her hand without a blink.

As you watch Amory sneak curiously out of your room before you two, you think to yourself that you haven’t been so calm ever since the dreadful revelation.

You’ll worry about everything later.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've almost forgotten to post this ^^"

The grass is cool but soft under your bare feet as you pad through the garden that’s basking in the daylight. Elva guides you in between low trees reminding you of a beech forest close to your grandparents’ house and you’re surprised to find the grass being unstained by any fallen leaf, flower or moss there. You haven’t really passed the trees line before, only staying in the more lit up parts of the greenhouse garden the sorcerers own in the middle of their mansion so you haven’t realised until now just how big and well kept it is. Though maybe every natural set in Eldarya looks so neat without interference of anyone. After all (from what you’ve learnt from the history books you got in your hands) it’s been created with magic and so was probably much easier to reach perfection than Earth.

As you reach the clearing your thoughts drift back to the happenings at present. There are no special decoration placed around, the bushes of light blue flowers that grow between the last line of trees and that you don’t know the name of adornment enough for the little group of witnesses of the upcoming ceremony.

Ezarel’s waiting for you in the middle of the circle-shaped glade, a sheathed rapier resting by his hip. He’s wearing white and blue encrusted with gold, just like when you met him but this time even more formal and oddly fitting the fact he’s barefoot just like you. This fact makes you go back and ponder on what Elva told you.  _ Don’t talk stereotypes _ .

A little further away but still close to the elf stands the sorcerer, all clad in browns and gold with a hint of green showing in few parts of his clothing. He smiles lightly at you, his eyes glinting in what you’d call an excitement although it confuses you as to why he would feel that.

Much further in the distance, almost in line with the trees stand a man you recognise to be Ezarel’s father with whom you have exchanged few words in means of introduction the evening you met his son. He still looks as cold as he did before, the icy-blue eyes holding no emotion whatsoever.

There’s no sight of anyone from your family here too, and even with Elva’s magic you feel dread squeezing your heart.

Even if it’s not how you imagined it, you’ve always wanted them to be witness at your wedding, were you to ever hold one. - It has been a promise on their part as well but it’s obvious it’s time of breaking those made between your loved ones to you.

You let out a longer breath as you place your hand in Ezarel’s outstretched palm joining him in what you now realise is a perfectly drawn circle that looks as if made not long ago with something sharp. His gaze resting on you feels heavy and you return it with as much power as you can muster without making faces and still staying relatively calm. Elva at the same time moves out of the way and opposite to the elves.

The sorcerer lifts his hand to reveal a white piece of fabric and when Ezarel offers you his second palm you place your free hand in it knowing of what is exactly supposed to happen next only thanks to your long interest in different cultures – those ancient included, because the instructions you’ve been given earlier did not include things that you weren’t supposed to do yourself.

Your hands are tied together with white silk-like material and a thin silver chain that is most certainly supposed to symbolically strengthen the bond. When the gold-clad arms leave the circle, the elf promises you protection, loyalty and faith, which all sounds awfully lot like what you already know of and have seen many times on every wedding you have taken part in since you were a child, though not exactly the same. You return the vow of loyalty and faith, glad you found it written on a leaf of paper on the bedside table the first day you arrived at the mansion because otherwise you wouldn’t be sure what to say exactly. Even though you know they wouldn’t let something like this happen, really.

As you both fall silent, the sorcerer speaks of the energy flows and an Oracle, switching between your language and what you remember him talking with your grandmother in. Your thoughts quickly drift away from the words though as you only catch up he’s simply asking whatever rules the world to keep you two safe and when he finishes the leaves of the threes around you shiver in nonexistent breeze, the grass around the circle soon moving as well. Ezarel’s hands squeeze yours which are trembling from emotion, Elva’s magic wearing off for this or that reason. And you’re thankful for this small show of support from him even if he probably misunderstood your reaction to be to the sudden blow of the wind tearing at all the other present peoples clothes and hair and leaving you two untouched.

It takes a moment for it to become silent again and when it does, the sorcerer makes a gesture with his hands which swiftly removes the silver and silk without him touching it ; and when you glance down at your hands, you are surprised to see seemingly-glowing swirly silver and gold circling your and the elf’s ring fingers.

You startle when you hear words that make you uneasy down in the pit of your stomach. “You may now kiss the bride.” – Is what the sorcerer says and soon a finger at your chin guides your face up, your eyes meet with the elf’s intense gaze – they’re honestly more stunning the closer you get – and a feathery brush on your lips makes you want to deepen it but you stop yourself and soon it’s over. The deal’s sealed and you have to stop the urge to bite down on your lip as you break the eye contact.

The circle that was drawn before is now nowhere to be found as Ezarel guides you a little to the side and then in direction you came from, his grip on your hand a little shaky until he finally lets go of it, placing his palm on the small of your back instead. You tense up a little at that before glancing up but there’s no emotion visible on his face and it’s then that you notice everyone else has already moved. Elva is nowhere to be found, while the sorcerer’s quietly talking with the other elf present.

“Do you want to check if you have everything packed first?” you two are nearing the building when the man breaks the silence and you startle before looking up at him.

“Sure. And I’d like to put on some boots, if that’s alright” you respond and he nods, seeming surprised for whatever reason (maybe he forgot you weren’t wearing any..?) before guiding you to your temporary rooms.

The moment he opens the glass door, a golden ball of fur pounces at you from the ground and you let out a giggle at Ezarel’s startle, finally relaxing your muscles. You haven’t even realised you were so stiff a moment before. But now tiredness is pulling at your shoulders and all you think of as you place Amory back on the ground is whenever you’ll be allowed to rest.

The fluffy animal moves then in the elf’s direction and he sends you questioning glance, ready to squat and let it get to know him.

“May I?” you nod and then walk in the direction of the bedroom, on your way there noting the disappearance of your pyjama that has been earlier swung over the back of the couch.

You let out a breath of relief when you see white flats standing by the foot of the bed. You sit down to put them on but as you do so, you notice a note resting on the pillow. It informs you that all of your things have been already moved along with the few books you have picked from the library and left on the coffee table and writes midnight for the departure time. You smile lightly seeing Elva’s signature and place the note back on the bed before proceeding to slip on the shoes. They fit your feet perfectly and feel soft on them and as you stand up and walk back to the living room it seems as if you are not wearing any while they still keep you warm.

When you exit the little library you see Ezarel petting the O’orulay sprawled on his lap while he’s sitting on the armchair. You notice his feet no longer are bare and a question passes your mind about when did he have time to change that.

“What’s his name?” he asks when the companion lifts its head and looks in your direction as you walk up to them.

“Amory.”

You sit down on the couch and the animal quickly changes places to your lap, where he curls up and purrs loudly as you pass your fingers over its fluffy neck.

“I take it you know how to dance..?”

As you nod you do not move your gaze from the golden fur, letting your mind get distracted by the soft feeling and the view of it glittering and moving under your hand.

“I attended few classes when I was a child and in school but I’m not that much of a dancer myself” you silently let out this piece of information, while watching the animal on your lap, rather sour smile tugging at your lips when you add: “I can’t say I’m familiar with dances not danced at the Earth, though. Good that those are not needed.”

“What do we do until midnight?” with this question you lift your gaze to the vibrant blue-green of his eyes, it’s partly rhetorical for you already know there’s reception to be held and the talk from a moment ago (and the note itself) strongly indicated you are not going to pass it.

“We wait, we show ourselves, we dance then soon after we leave.”

“Is it always like this?” as you pose this question, you notice it tug the corners of his lips slightly down, before he lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

“I never attended weddings, so I don’t know.” He knows though, you can easily decipher that even though you must admit he’s quite the good actor and knows how to lie by using half-truths because if not for the long training you have went through you wouldn’t catch it. You can’t work out whether it usually takes longer or the couple leaves immediately. He’s noble and now you’re noble as well, whatever the range his family holds in this world is. Possibly it’s low enough to be able to leave so quickly or too high to not be allowed to leave right after the main ceremony. You do not know the laws ruling the society in here and now you decide to learn about it as much possible in the close future.

After all, it’s hard to decipher information about people surrounding you if you have no knowledge about the basic rules and history of the society they live in.

The silence that falls on the both of you prolongs and you find yourself dozing off as the tiredness from each sleepless night you had ever since the beginning of this farce tugs at your eyelids. You’re honestly just thankful when Amory jumps down from your lap and soon returns with a stick longer than him which has golden feathers hanging from one end on a strong thread you know will not snap even if the animal hangs himself on it.

You keep ignoring the elf as you play with the O’orulay. The animal easily distracts you from your fatigue with it squeals of delight as it jumps and leaps after the glittering toy and it’s no time until it’s dark outside and a maid walks in the room and announces it’s time to go.

The light atmosphere that came from the game you played with your companion leaves the room with the speed of a lightning.

Ezarel offers you his hand without a word and you take it and let yourself be led to the grand room you first arrived in, the place now swarming with decorations – flowers white and blue and threads of gold and silver mixing perfectly with the white light fabric hanging from the ceiling.

The room’s lit with dozens of lights that seem to be floating in the air without the help of any threads or stands. Undoubtedly magic.

Your breath catches up in your throat at this view, heart rummaging your ribcage at the sight of many guests which you notice right after and who are all looking at you two as the elf leads you to the floor made of sanded dark stones.

You keep your steps confident even when your eyes meet with the intensive stares of the people around. But it’s great relief when the music starts and Ezarel turns to you and you can hang your gaze on his familiar face as he holds you close and leads with an ease and grace you have never before seen in any of your previous dance partners.

It’s easy to follow and lose yourself in the moves and the music enough to let the time pass quickly with only few stops for small bites; and the elf is so good at avoiding it that when some man approaches you two for the first time to snatch you from your  _ husband _ ’s arms, when a clock hung in the middle of the ceiling announces midnight and you have a good excuse to not accept the hand outstretched your way and with an apologetic smile sneak out of the room through small door in the back of it and onto the halls empty of the guests and full of the quickly moving servants.

Ezarel’s hand lets go of yours when you leave the crowded side corridor you just a moment ago didn’t know existed there. His palm lands on the small of your back instead, your shoulders tensing at the contact, though the tiredness you feel doesn’t let you react too abruptly and the man nudges you to take a turn right into another hallway leading wherever.

You don’t even realise you’re looking at the ground until suddenly the hand that has been guiding you disappears and your head snaps up. Ezarel holds a wing of large wooden doors open for you and you pick on your peace to not make him wait too long. Outside it’s much colder than in the building and your hands automatically move up to warm up your shoulders as you look around to take in (for the first and most likely last time) the front yard and the façade of the sorcerers’ mansion.

The building’s painted sunflower yellow and there are orange and golden floral designs decorating the walls which now are visible only thanks to the artificial lights illuminating them from the outside. All of the curtains in the windows on this side of the mansion are light orange and adding to the warm colour of it and you must admit that this design matches the duo living there greatly.

Speaking of the devil, you hear Elva calling for the two of you to join her in a chariot standing not so far away from the entrance. You notice the gold of Amory resting in her arms the exact moment soft and warm material falls on your shoulders and after you quietly thank the elf you grab and lift the hem of your dress so that you can pick on your pace without fear of tripping because of stepping on the material. Ezarel easily keeps up with you, still silent as if he were a ghost following you and not a living person with a voice.

The two of you get in the vehicle and as she takes place in front of you, the sorceress hands you the animal that simply curls up in your arms and snuggles closer, sleep having snatched it long ago in its arms.

You’re once again reminded of your motion sickness when the carriage starts to move. It sways from side to side, making it hard to focus on anything other than the bile rising in your throat as you keep on petting the O’orulay in hopes this’ll calm you down.

“Do you want me to-“

“No” you cut Elva’s sentence in half. You can’t keep on using her magic to calm yourself down because soon you will have to deal with all your anxieties by yourself only, not to mention that if she uses her magic on you, you know you will fall asleep immediately and that is the last thing you would like to do in this situation.

The sorceress tries to start a conversation with any of you, keeping her magic out of it for once to honour what you asked for but both of you refuse to keep it going and finally, she gives up, letting out a last grumble before turning completely silent. Meanwhile you keep on glaring at the curtains covering the carriage’s windows because you’d  _ love  _ to look out and watch the environment of the world you ended up in. This whole bullshit about keeping you save by pretty much literally imprisoning you makes you impossibly angry and you would probably snap at Elva because of it if not for the fact she leaves to join the carter at the front when you stop for a moment. And then the fatigue does not let you stay awake for much longer anyway.

It’s honestly just a matter of seconds as your mind finally gives in and your eyes fall shut. And when the carriage jumps on some rock your body tilts to the side and leans on the startled by that elf.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to keep up with the update on the deadline I set for myself and I'm very happy about that. We'll see how it'll be in the next two weeks though, since I have even more work crashing at me at uni now :'>  
> Alas! Enjoy!  
> And don't forget to comment with whatever thoughts you may have (incoherent messages are also v welcome) and with any wishes for soon or further future - which will make it easier for me to write ;3

You wake up to light patting on your shoulder.

It takes a moment for you to blink off most of the sleep from your eyes and lift yourself from the firm thing on which your cheek rested just a moment ago.

“Good morning.” Only belatedly, when you hear his voice, you realise it has been Ezarel’s lap.

“I’m so sorry” you utter as you spring up, Amory startling in your arms and wiggling at the sudden movement. As you try to calm him down, you miss the glint of amusement that lights the elf’s eyes as his lips curl up when he watches you intently.

You realise the carriage is standing when the door on its side open and you see the sorceress standing outside in the morning light. It seems like you had quite the long journey.

After Ezarel helps you out of the vehicle, Elva leaves almost immediately, but tells you to rather stay behind the wall separating the elven mansion and its gardens from the outside world for _safety reasons_ and as she says that you notice something shining over her head and further. It looks like a giant bubble overcast over you all, although that may be just your imagination and she means something else.

When the gate closes behind her, a hand falling on your shoulder makes you startle and immediately turn to the elf standing a little behind you.

“I can show the whole mansion to you, if you want” he proposes and lets go of your shoulder the moment you nod in response.

As you follow him up the white stairs, to the metal doors leading inside the white building, Amory jumps out of your hands and disappears between the bushes and you somehow manage to stop yourself from following him, only barely remembering Elva explanation that familiars are absolutely fine on their own and restraining them when they want to explore can result in them becoming completely dependent on you.

When you turn back to the man, who now is holding the door open, you see amusement turning the corners of his lips up.

“What” it’s not really a question but you pose it, as you catch up to him and he shrugs, smile still present on the thin line of his lips.

“I’ve been wondering what kind of an owner you are” he explains and his palm once again finds the small of your back.

You can’t help the fact your shoulders once again go rigid at this gesture and you stress over it a little when this time Ezarel obviously notices it, seeing as his gaze turns so piercing you find yourself looking away.

Ten, a step later, the hand suddenly disappears and when you look at him again, he’s offering his arm to you instead, without uttering a word as he does so. You let yourself relax as you place your hand on his elbow while not really looking at his face anymore and allow him to pull you down the main hall.

The two of you walk slowly through the many corridors and rooms, eventually stopping in a complex of the latter that could easily pass for a small two-storey house or maybe a maisonette connected to the rest of the place. There is a living area right in the middle, its floor covered in grass and stone mosaics. It looks like small garden closed inside of a house with delicate-looking furniture and flowers randomly sprouting out from the ground close to the rooms’ walls. There’s one door on the wall to the left and in front of you – your and Ezarel’s bedrooms – you learn; and the wall to your right opens to a large orangery that can be opened to the garden outside. As you two walked down the corridor leading to this place, you’ve noticed more doors, but none of them were open and judging by the fact the man didn’t say anything about them, they weren’t of some much significance. So you don’t ask for now, knowing you’ll have enough time to explore later, and let go of his arm when he guides you inside your bedroom.

It’s larger than you’d expect, furnished in similar way to the living room but with much more wood than there. Just like you like. While still staying spacious and open for alternations.

“It’s gorgeous” you hear yourself saying as you pass your fingers over the backrest of a chair standing by a desk close to the wall, eyes roaming over every piece of furniture and few decorations as you wonder what other than the large window taking most of the wall in front of you is supposed to give you light in the evening. It’s accompanied by glass doors too, leading to the orangery, which seems to circle the complex.

“I’m glad it’s to your liking.”

When you glance at him, you see he’s grinning. It’s the first time you see him with a purely happy expression and honestly, he’s even more handsome with it than without. A pity it disappears as quickly as it appeared.

“You should rest, you seem still tired.” It sounds like something that should be said and if you are to be honest - makes you even more drained, especially when you notice he’s just as much exhausted. “All clothes you may need should be already in your wardrobe.”

When you nod, he turns to take his leave and when you are finally alone you heave out a long sigh.

You walk up to the large wooden piece of furniture, beautifully ornamented in flowery patterns and open it to reveal a row of dresses hung in a perfect row. It’s actually much larger than the case suggests, for when you move the first row of the clothes to the side it opens to a small room filled with different clothing and with a small pouf situated in the middle of it.

It’s funny how the entrance to it is hidden behind the clothes. Makes your mind drift to The Chronicles of Narnia.

You snicker lightly at this reference, before walking up to the shelves in search of something more loose to put it on to take an early nap. You pick a longer night gown and while walking out, place it on the bed, before reaching behind you to unlace the corset. Only that you can’t seem to get a grasp on the lace.

Panic rises in your throat as you claw at the dress’ back from both above and below, then try to take it off without unlacing but it proves impossible. Finally, after few more tries, you plop down on the bed, trying to calm down your breathing and an angry thought passes you that bloody Elva must’ve made fun of you... although maybe she wasn’t aware you wouldn’t be able to take care of it yourself..? Suddenly you feel disappointed of yourself. You shouldn’t be jumping to such conclusions about people who you still don’t really know and who have been only nice to you so far. You must be seriously drained both physically and emotionally to suddenly go against the rules you made yourself long ago to never be quick to judge.

You let out a deep sigh to calm your thoughts and think of a way out but at this exact moment you hear a knock on the door. There’s a pause before you see it crack open and reveal the elf, holding what seems to be a book in his half-raised hand.

A moment of silence passes with you two staring at each other before he moves in your direction and after placing the book on the bed makes a twirling motion with his hand.

“Turn around.”

You do as he asked, knees pressing in the side of the mattress that dips right behind you under the man’s weight. Then your hands shot up to hold on the front of the dress as you feel tugging on the laces behind. You can feel them all loosening quickly as he swiftly moves down without touching you but then warmth brushes your skin under the lowest bind and you flinch away, unpleasant shiver running down your body.

“Sorry” the word’s strained and feels out of place more than anything as he quickly retreats his hand and closes it in a fist out of reflex. The air turns heavy with silence and tension now before he gets up and clears his throat and you turn yourself in a way that allows you to look up at him.

He’s once again holding the book he brought and from up close you see nothing engraved on its back.

“It’s the textbook I promised” the man explains and when it downs on you what he means exactly, you nod but still do not allow your shoulders nor your expression to relax.

He places the book back on the bed and in three quick strides reaches the door again, closing them behind himself without a word this time and you ponder whether he just ran away or you’re imagining things, though it’s most likely not the latter.

“Did you say something?” you ask for you can swear you’ve just heard his hushed voice on the other side of the door but he denies that fact and after a moment of silence you get up to slip the dress off you and change into the other gown, only for a moment thinking you probably should shower but the thought of moving more now instead of just laying down and sleeping makes you decide you can wash yourself when you’re awake again.

You hang the white piece of clothing on the desk chair, eyes trailing the delicate floral patterns on it. It really is beautiful and suddenly you start to wonder whether the elf liked how you looked in it.

You pass your hand through your hair, trying to rid yourself of this thinking and only then do you notice you haven’t gotten rid of the coiffure either. The small pins keeping your hair up fall easily upon right push and after you gather them from the sheets you dump them all on the desk with the notebook following close behind. You slip inside the bed, noting the weird pink wool-like substance that most likely is supposed to be a mattress. It’s soft to the touch and when you lie down, swiftly adjusts to your shape and you think it’ll be easy to slip into oblivion onto such a comfortable cloud.

And true to your thoughts, you’re out in a matter of seconds.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I thought my pendrive disappeared for good and this wouldn't let me update today... hah  
> I hope you like what I throw at you and get as frustrated as you are supposed to get "3
> 
> There's a discord link in the end notes btw (it doesn't expire O^O). I'd be super happy if you joined ^^

When you wake up it’s to the afternoon sun seeping in your room through the large window and a rumbling stomach that easily forces you to get up and head in the wardrobe in search of some clothes different than the night gown you are wearing.

You pick a sleeveless long dress of your favourite colour. A dress for, even though you already miss the tight presence of pants on your legs, its material seems so comfortable under your fingers as you pass them over it that you just _need_ to try it on. Seriously. You’re a woman. You can allow yourself do things like those.

The middle of the piece of garment is a darker shade with little gems following some random patterns on the fabric while the lower part of the dress changes to a lighter hue turning transparent at the hem of it. You slip on thick socks of the same colour in order for them to keep your feet warm and after brushing your hair up in a loose bun you start your quest to find food.

The living room is deserted and although if you met Ezarel, you would be able to just ask him where is the kitchen, it would mean asking for his company, which you don’t really wish for at the moment and so you do not knock on the door leading to his bedroom. You wouldn’t really bet he was there either. He probably had better things to do than sleep at this hour.

You decide to simply try the doors you’ve earlier seen in the corridor as you walked towards those rooms. First two on the right are locked, next opens to what seems to be a storage of sorts. Then you go back and check the left side and are surprised to find what obviously looks like a lab. Inside it is the elf, wearing only white pants and a dark navy sleeveless shirt along with dark shoes that look rather comfortable. His blue hair bound in a high ponytail swing as he turns to you, dark green liquid splashing in a glass kettle held by him.

“You’re awake, you sleep like a bear” he acknowledges and you let go of the handle before supporting yourself on the doorframe, ignoring the added statement.

“And am hungry” you simply add “care to tell me where I can find kitchen? And what time it is?”

One blue brow raises, before he nods in the direction the further rooms should be.

“Fifth door on the left. And last time I checked it was nearing two.”

“Thanks” as you say this, you retreat and head in the direction he gave you.

You slept too much – you think as you open the door and slip in the kitchen. It’s not very big but when you check the cabinets you see it has all the necessities. There’s another door in the back and when you look what is behind them, you are pleased to find a rather small pantry. You quickly find some eggs, flour, salt and pepper and soon you are warming the frying pan while filling a cup with water and then searching for something to add to or put on your omelette. You end up adding a chopped carrot and some canned peas to the eggs and after few minutes you have your late lunch ready.

Your stomach’s full in no time and after you are done with washing the utensils, you put them out on the sink to dry and leave, your curiosity leading you back into the lab where you slip and once again lean on the doorframe.

This time, Ezarel turns only his head in your direction, his expression questioning and you shrug in response before crossing your arms on your chest.

“I’m bored” you say but you’re quite aware your curiosity is still visible in your expression and only someone blind or awfully uninterested wouldn’t notice. The elf does not seem to be the case.

“Oh, really?” amusement clearly twinkles in his eyes as his lips curl up and you let yourself respond with a smile of your own, albeit reluctantly.

“I figured it’d be interesting to watch you blow up the whole place or something.”

“You have quite an awful idea of my skills in this field” he sounds offended but you only roll your eyes and shrug again.

“I believe what I’ve seen, so you have to show me how great you are, Mr. best alchemist in the whole realm and then I won’t expect you to screw up. Easy.”

He scoffs at that and turns back to the table and you deem it a good reaction when he doesn’t order you to leave. It’s not an explicit allowance either, so you do not let yourself move from your place yet and simply watch from afar as he crushes some orange stone and carefully adds it to now blue mixture bubbling in the glass kettle. When it suddenly changes colour to crimson red (it’s ridiculous, how is that even possible that those colours mixed can give such a result!?), you wish to ask what (and how) he’s doing but then again, you’re not so sure he’d appreciate your curiosity, so you stay silent.

“What does it do?” you blurt only when the mixture is carefully poured and closed in small glass containers secured by a box that seems to be clad with the same material the mattress of your bed is made of.

“This potion, on touch, puts on fire every solid object that is not specially made crystal.” Ezarel does not turn but he explains nevertheless, carefully dropping a lit match in the slightly moist kettle and the flame blazes brightly, quickly eating up the remnants of the mixture. So it’s not made of glass in the end. It looked like it, though.

Guessing by the way it’s stacked, it’s supposed to be a weapon, a powerful one if such a small amount gives such a fierce result. You decide you are not going to ask for demonstration.

You linger in the doorway for a while longer, watching Ezarel close the case with the dangerous contents and check on a glass-looking equipment that you belatedly realise is supposed to distil substances. He then starts work on something new, this time using alien to you dried herbs only, and when he throws the chopped plants in a new kettle you decide to retreat. It’s not _that_ interesting when you know nothing about the topic and it’s obvious you will not learn much any time soon, so with a sight you walk out and close the door behind yourself as you decide to find something else to do.

When you return to your room, you notice the white gown is gone. Whether it had been hung in the wardrobe or taken out to wash or whatever, you do not know. Just like you do not know who might have taken care of it as you have not seen around anyone safe from the obviously too busy for that elf.

You stop at the one not see-through door in the room you have yet to walk through and after a moment of wonder, push them to reveal a brown and green tiled bathroom. It’s bigger than you’d expected and most certainly unused judging by its state.

You allow yourself a moment to take in your surroundings. There’s a giant mirror hung on the wall to your left with two big stone sinks underneath it. Fresh white towels hang on their sides accompanied by smaller in greens. There are also few colourful bottles and soap put there and a plant you do not know the name of hung over your reflection.

On your right, the floor cuts down into stairs that lead to what looks like the ancient public terms or baths you’ve read about in books. There are two low tables set on its edge, rows of glass or crystal bottles set on one with addition of small towels that are probably used to not overheat in the steamy water. On the other there are neatly folded bigger towels and some spare space that can be most likely used to stack clothes on. The room has small window running right under the ceiling over the dried up pool and there are also rough crystal-like structures of different shapes scattered all around. They give off a glow of warm yellow light and keep the whole room illuminated and this discovery makes you finally realise the decorations in your bedroom are there for the same purpose.

As you walk closer to the bath, you notice there are also small holes in the ceiling close to the stairs, which indicates you can take a shower only as well and after a moment of thought you turn the locks in both doors leading to the room and rid yourself of the clothing that you drop (although rather neatly) onto the table. You then pad down the short stairs and search for the taps which you quickly find under the furniture with the bottles. It’s easy to get the right temperature since your hand reaches right in the water and soon you stand in the shower, your muscles relaxing under the hot stream.

You wait till the water fully sinks in your hair before switching it off and reaching for different bottles to see what they are used for and which smell you like the most and after a moment of trying you settle for what smells like roses – most certainly a shampoo, since it quickly turns into foam when you rub your hands together.

You wash your hair and body thoughtfully and then dry yourself with a fluffy towel, securing your hair with it before you put the clothes back on and after brushing your hair and putting the now damp towel on one of the hangers to dry you emerge out of the bathroom.

You then walk up to your desk and upon further inspection discover clean sets of paper sheets, few quills and brushes along with differently coloured ink closed in small bottles. The few books you have been given from the sorcerers’ library still lay on the desk and you decide to put them and Ezarel’s notebook in the empty shelves hung over it. You do similar to your few belongings brought here for you while you were asleep.

When you are done with that, you look around searching for anything else that can be done in the room, but seeing nothing of the sorts, you walk through the door leading to orangery in order to explore more.

It’s warm like inside your room with a slow move of the air preventing it from feeling too stuffy, although it’s much more humid than inside. Instead of grass, moss covers the ground  and pops on the rocky pathway running to both sides of the round glass cage. Different kinds of vines grow on the walls of the building, some blooming with flowers you’ve never seen before which scent sweetens the air around you.

There are bushes of green everywhere with lightly coloured stones popping here and there from between and eventually forming small dykes that surround small tables accompanied by delicately looking sets of chairs. They are scattered around in a mean that seem make you able to move between them in order to stay in the sun throughout the whole day if needed. You decide to try this theory out soon.

You end up walking back in the living room and pacing around the area you are now most certainly going to inhabit before once again stopping outside the alchemy lab door. You are bored and do not feel like reading or studying and your hand lingers for a long moment on the handle, before you let go of it and head back in the kitchen. You can bake cookies to pass some time. You have wanted to make something sweet for quite a lot of time now and since you really have nothing better to do now, you can as well do just that.

You know few recipes by heart and have your notebook in which you write the others amongst the few things you brought from home, remembering how your grandmother described this world’s cuisine as barbaric, so you are more than capable of making yourself decent meals every day if needed.

An hour passes as you ready the sweet and then you put it out on the slab to cool down. Then comes the last cleaning up and after that you stare out of the window and through the orangery, annoyance bubbling in your chest at how little time has passed and worry nagging at you when you wonder whether you’ll be forced to eat all the sweet by yourself. You honestly haven’t thought it over before you made it.

You walk back out of the kitchen and to your room, where you take out one of the books you’ve taken from the sorcerers’ library. You then walk out, with it and a blanket you find in a chest under the bed, into the orangery and find a perfect spot to curl yourself up in and read in hopes to learn something useful.

After the short exchange in the lab, Ezarel doesn’t talk to you even once. You notice he’s pretty much stayed in the room all day and leaves it only once when the sun meets the horizon – to come back inside again soon after – which you notice thanks to the fact the place you sit in this whole time has a good view on the living room and the hall.

You leave that place a moment later, to go to the kitchen to prepare yourself some supper and are a little surprised to note the disappearance of almost half of the cookies. You really like baking though, so the fact the man has a sweet tooth pleases you greatly.

When you finish your meal, you return to the orangery, where the flowers start glowing softly with the light of the day now gone. It’s still too little light to your liking so you move everything back to your room, now illuminated by the crystals stuck to the walls close to the corners and hung over your bed, casting enough light on both it and the desk that it’s healthy for the eyes to read after the sun sets.

You reach your hand towards those and when your fingers brush over them, the room suddenly goes dark and stays this way when your arm twitches back out of surprise. A moment passes and you curiously reach out again and this time all of the crystals lit up once more. Magic’s included, no doubt – you think, as you make yourself comfortable on the bed and once again open the book that speaks about the different races inhabiting this world.

You do not sleep this night, being too well-rested after the hours you’ve slept since you’ve left the sorcerer’s household and totally engrossed in the heavy book that lays on your lap. You leave the room twice during this time to tend to the needs of your body, returning with few spare cookies the second time. The next time you leave for the kitchen is when the sky behind the large window and the orangery lightens up but it’s still before the sun shows and you do not expect to meet anyone on your way.

You are undisturbed as you prepare and eat your breakfast and when you’re finished with the cleaning, the sun all but starts to rise, the clouds covering the upper part of the sky glowing orange and pink in the light from below them. It would be nice to observe it from the orangery – you think as you walk up to the door.

Upon opening it though you closely see dark blue that (as your eyes wander up) quickly changes to a familiar face with the blue-green eyes you know quite well by now.

“Good morning.” Ezarel looks tired, probably stayed up all night to finish the potions he was working on the day before. You can clearly make the much stronger smell of herbs and something burnt and maybe flowers – that he always wears. He undoubtedly spent some time amongst them... although maybe it’s the close proximity or the fact your senses go up every time you are this close to any man.

“Hi” you belatedly reply. He moves his eyes over your head then and stares on for a while, before once again breaking the silence.

“Do you get up this early every day?”

You don’t move from your place. A thought that you will end up missing the sunrise crossing your mind but left ignored. You crave a conversation too much to let it go this easily.

“I slept during the day, so I didn’t need it much in the night tonight.” It sounds like you’ve just woken up and you do not feel guilty for phrasing it this way. It’s not like he would care about such a detail anyway, not to mention it’s normal in such condition.

Why are you even thinking of something like that..?

“What about you?”

“I have work to take care of for the guard. A lot in fact. Honestly, this wedding happened at the worst moment possible.”

“I guess.” You don’t make a face but it still somehow stings. He’s a busy man, that’s obvious, and you definitely do not want to get close to him either. You’re still pissed you’ve let this happen and that you haven’t run away during that hour when you were left alone at home. Everything be damned, but you shouldn’t have allowed your curiosity to make you stay. It broke you apart from your family and your world, things you did all the time, everything you knew before and your freedom.

The last thought draws the corners of your lips slightly down.

“Do you have a library here?” It’s better you think about something else, so you decide to take care of your entertainment. You doubt there will be anything else for you to do than study or write and you don’t feel like doing the latter.

He hums in confirmation.

“I’ll take you there later.”

“Sure.” You move to the side and watch as he walks into the pantry, before turning on your heel and walking back to your room, your pace quicker than on the other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember you can join the LCS dicord server now and give your suggestions for future chapters as well as just chill around: https://discord.gg/uyNfZZs


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, so.... I'm not dead.... just physically and mentally drained bc of uni (lol wish me strength, really)  
> I've managed to pass the first semester with quite good grades and alsomanaged to finish this chapter. The next one's started but it may once again take time to actually get long enough to post it..... so I cannot say when I update next.  
> Meanwhile, here's the long awaited chap 9.  
> Please leave some comment or something - those helped me a lot with moving this thingy further.

The next three days go on similarly.

You browse through the same book you’ve borrowed, then end up reading the textbooks about elvish – first language on the list you’ve found interesting and worth learning. You’re mostly alone at the time, choosing to stay at the orangery or your room, only going out to eat. Amory comes back every few hours, sometimes to drop a treasure or a snack he finds on his way, sometimes to curl up on your lap for a longer while for you to pet him as you read. And in the evenings to sleep at the feet of your bed.

There’s something that keeps you awake at nights though, but to what you cannot really put a finger to and it’s frustrating because you’ve usually known what was wrong in your day schedule when lack of proper rest happened. You end up giving up on searching for the reason, knowing that worrying about that will stress you enough to have even less sleep. The thoughts are hard to get rid of though, so on fourth day you find yourself standing before the door of the alchemy lab, hand reaching for the handle that moves just before you have the chance to touch it.

“Ah-“ you both stop in the middle of a movement, surprised to have bumped into each other at such a circumstance.

“Are you finished with your work?” You are the first to break the silence, as you notice the unusual time for him to leave the room. He has eaten just recently so this was the only explanation you could come up with at the time.

“No, I need to fetch a certain book from the library to make sure the ingredients are used in the right order.”

“You haven’t used any books the other time.” As you point this out matter-of-factly, he shrugs, albeit rather interested about something in this statement.

“It’s because I don’t need them when the product is something I make often or when it’s basic knowledge or something simple like most ointments.” As you nod, he closes the door behind himself and motions in the direction where the complex ends and the rest of the mansion starts “You wanted to see where the library is, right?”

You nod shortly and start in the direction he’s earlier shown, the elf quickly falling into pace with you, his palm finding the small of your back to guide you as always. Although it’s still not welcome and your body makes a point of showing it, you guess you can get used to it eventually. And it’s not like you don’t appreciate the fact he has manners which are lacked by most men on the Earth, so you let yourself be guided down the long halls of the elven mansion.

It takes four turns to get to the doors that open to the library. It’s indeed smaller than the one in the sorcerers’ mansion but it looks much more alluring with the delicately-looking shelves, vines climbing them and light of both the crystals and coming through the windows filling the room.

Ezarel’s hand disappears from your back as he dives in an alleyway that interests him and you follow him, eyes roaming the tittles and finding books written mostly in elvish. It’s quite possible you really will have to learn this language enough to read most things in this collection – you think as you let your eyes fall on the elf who’s just pulled out a book and now is quickly flipping through it. He stops on some page and reads it for a longer while, before closing the book and returning your look after a moment of surprise.

“Aren’t you going to browse through the books?” he eventually asks, amusement lacing his tone as he puts the book in its place.

You shake your head in return, arms crossing under your chest, because you can’t force them not to.

“I’m tired of books. I’d like to watch you work, maybe help with something,” you clear your throat “if you’d allow.”

This makes his brows rise as he takes a moment of thought before responding.

“You can tag along if you wish... Though I don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to try to help me. You’d most certainly end up destroying something.”

“Thank you for believing in me this much,” you scoff and he lets a biting grin slide on his lips in response.

“My pleasure.”

You huff out a laugh then turn on your heel and start towards the door. The elf quickly catches up to you, musing to himself about something in elvish but of that you can only understand the basics that are articles and two maybe three verbs. It sounds pretty though, so you don’t tune him off while walking the path you’ve already memorised, only after a moment realising his hand hasn’t been placed on your back this time. He’s probably too lost in thought or actually believes you can get back to the lab without his help to do that. Not that you would complain of course, for you absolutely do not seek any contact.

When you reach the laboratory he tells you to do whatever as long as you do not touch anything (you muse to yourself at this since that means you are not allowed to do a thing) and it’s fine, because the atmosphere is not cold nor awkward as you stay close and watch as he works on the potions. This time you let all questions burning your tongue fall and he answers every each of them without losing the bait. You find this rather amazing, if you are to be honest, the fact that he can talk and not get distracted from his work. It makes it so much more enjoyable and makes hours pass like minutes and soon you feel hunger rising in your stomach.

You glance to the window then and are surprised to notice the sky darkening quickly like it does every time the sun disappears completely behind the horizon.

You start for the door but stop, when you place your hand on the handle.

“Would you like to eat dinner with me?” you ask as you turn to the elf and his head snaps up at this question, eyes quickly switching between you and the window before he answers.

“After I finish.”

“Sure, preparing it will take time anyway.” You shrug and with that you walk out of the lab and towards the kitchen, where you search for inspiration as to what to make.

Your close to growling stomach makes you decide on something quick and so you end up making a béchamel sauce gratin. When it lands in the oven you busy yourself with washing the used utensils and putting them and the unused ingredients away back in the pantry. You have time so you don’t take everything at once but decide to carry the stuff in pieces.

When you return for the ingredients you notice you're no longer alone. - Ezarel's standing by the counter, leaning his side on it, while he curiously peeks in the oven's direction, popping raw pasta in his mouth. Even with the crunch indicating it totally could hurt his mouth it's simply hilarious to you and you allow yourself to snort, before you stop in front of him and reach your hand out to demand for him to hand you the bag.

“You're a child,” you comment when he lifts the bag higher and out of your reach.

“I'm hungry,” is his retort before he pops another piece of pasta in his mouth with a completely straight face.

“This way you'll get yourself satiated with empty calories before you get to eat real food. Gimme that,” you demand and he rolls his eyes at that.

“Whatever.”

He still doesn't budge and you let out a huff before gathering the rest of the ingredients with intent on carrying those to the pantry.

“Fine. Suit yourself. But remember that then it'll be on you that the rest of the gratin will have to be thrown away, because unlike humans you don't have any good way of keeping the already prepared meals fresh.” This does it, as the next moment the package of pasta lands on the milk and flour that rests in your hands.

“Thank you.” You suppress the victorious smile that threatens to spill on your lips as you dive in the pantry. One thing you do know for sure about this world is that they really do care about saving as much food as possible and your bet was on the fact that as someone high in command, who needs to take the good of every being around himself in consideration, he would fall for this menace. He doesn't need to know that if one will eat it during the next day, this gratin can be left outside the fridge and would not go off during such time, of course.

When you put everything in its place, you go back to set the "table" - which is a kitchen island endowed with a set of two chairs (while skilfully ignoring your company) so that you don't have to do so when the meal is ready. First go the forks, then plates and then you reach for the high shelf of the cabinet where the cups are. Of course you'd forget that every time you wanted to get yourself a cup of water you had to use a chair. And of course you're too stubborn to go grab it when the desired utensils are standing right by the edge of the shelf and close enough for you to get them off it while standing on your tiptoes. Or so you believe as you stretch yourself, your fingers grabbing the first one but failing to get the second.

After few tries you finally give up with a huff and simply go fill with water the one you've got to obvious snickering amusement of the elf.

You drink up a bit, then check on the gratin and seeing it's ready, you grab the potholders to get the dish out of the oven safely and place it on the island.

“Bon appétit,” you say when the food is set on the plates and before you dig in yours in order to satiate your hunger.

As you do so, you watch from the corner of your eye how Ezarel examines the meal, first visually, then he picks up a small portion on the fork and after a sniff and a blow puts it in his mouth. His eyebrows rise in a matter of seconds.

“It's good.” He sounds greatly surprised.

“Thanks. You seem to have really small faith in my overall skills,” you respond blandly and he lifts his eyes to look at you.

“Cooking's not easy.”

You snort, which immediately turns into a chuckle.

“Who told you that?” now, is he just awful at that or what? “If you follow the recipes, you'll always get it right.”

He takes his time to swallow the bite he's taken.

“We don't have any cookbooks here,” he explains “And it's been like this ever since Eldarya has been created. It's hard to make everything tasty when you don't have anything to base yourself on.”

Now it's your brows that rise as you digest this information.

“So your way of cooking hasn't changed since middle-ages?” it sounds ridiculous.

“More or less.”

You find yourself staring while he goes back to eating and you're pulled out of it by a demanding grumble of your stomach that effectively shuts any of your upcoming questions as you dig back in your portion of the gratin.

When the two of you are finished and you cover up the rest of the dish so that it can cool off without turning dry, you grab your dirty utensils and go clean them up in the sink. Ezarel joins you almost immediately, putting his plate at your other side while taking the soap-covered one out of your hands and opening the tap on the other side of the sink to rinse the foam off it. You pause from surprise at that but take no notice of how you seem to not mind this type of closeness that much as you grab the second plate and wash it, then hand it to the man to rinse it.

“You should go to sleep,” Ezarel says while placing the utensils aside to let them dry.

“And you shouldn't?” you respond immediately as you place the towel you dried your hands with back on the small hanger close to the window.

“I have to clean up the lab before that.”

“I could help you,” you propose, your eyes locking with his and he scoffs before a grin sprawls on his lips. You note to yourself that you actually very much enjoy this expression.

“I'll pass.”

 “Suit yourself,” you say with a shrug before heading for the door.

Once outside, you go to your room and from there to the bathroom, where you take a shower before changing in a two-piece pyjama, wrapping yourself with a blanket and joining Amory on your bed with a book in hand. The small animal curls up to your side immediately and as you pass your fingers through his golden fur, you focus completely on the letters, images and schemes too engrossed in them and not tired enough to sleep yet another night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written Ez’s pov on part of this fic's happenings. And it's the second work in the LCS series, so if I were you I'd check it out ;]


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You said you would like to help me," he states, green eyes searching your face as he holds the utensils before you "What about learning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited chapter 10 is here... with Ezarel making an effort and some little flirting to make up for the wait
> 
> Honestly though I'm sorry?  
>  ~~Like some of you advised, I took my time.... turned out to take A LOT of that time um~~  
>  But to be real about this, I was so busy this past year and then super uninspired during vacation, idk I just couldn't squeeze this one out.  
> Hopefully chapter 11 will come out earlier than nearly a year after this one ;; pls wish me strength and also please leave some comments, I need to know there's someone that's still reading this fghdjukhtrdgbdtrg

The next day you walk out of your room at the same time Ezarel exits the kitchen. You've eaten and cleaned up after yesterday about an hour ago and are now about to fetch the new batch of cookies you've made after your breakfast.

The elf slows down on his way to the lab as the two of you meet with silent "Good mornings" matched with smiles. And you are half aware of his curious gaze at your back as you hurriedly dive into the kitchen short after.

The smell of baked cookies fills the air there, sweet and heavy so before you go to fetch the oven gloves, you stretch to open the window that's spilling early morning light into the room from over the sink.

After that, you grab the oven mitts and carefully pull out the baking sheet, only to notice there are three cookies missing from the front row.

You stare at the empty spots for a moment, perplexed, and when it clicks where the cookies went, you let out a sigh, then proceed to finally put the tray down to let everything cool.

When that’s done, you put the oven mitts back in their place, then head out of the kitchen and towards the labs, hopeful you’ll get to spend this day like the previous one.

"How were the cookies?" you ask as you open the door. "Not too raw or too hot?"

A pout is what you get in response.

"That's not funny," comments the elf when you break out into giggles.

"You could have just waited," you reply with a shrug, an amused smile still plastered on your face as you get closer to the table "What are you working on today?"

A sigh passes his lips before he moves his gaze to the ingredients waiting on the table.

"Medicine."

"What kind?" you continue and note how he makes some room for you at his side while he arranges utensils he'll be using to make whatever this will be. It's nice to know you're definitely not unwelcomed.

"I was going to start from potions that'll need to be put away for a few hours to brew before further processing and then move onto a pain easing ointment," he explains, easily slipping into the calm and professional stance you remember him in the day before.

You watch as he cleans up the table and arranges five stacks of fresh herbs that look nothing like something you'd find back on Earth. After that he grabs a cutting board and a knife but instead of starting to prepare the ingredients he pauses and turns in your direction with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You said you would like to help me," he states, green eyes searching your face as he holds the utensils before you "What about learning."

You definitely don't expect such a turn but as you quickly think about the... offer?, you admit to yourself that yes, in fact you do want to spend more time with the man and are determined to get to know him better. Not to mention you _are_ greatly interested in the topic, so not even a few seconds pass before you accept the cutting board and the knife with a crooked smile.

"Is the great head of the Absynthe Guard himself offering to teach me about alchemy?"

He snorts and crosses his arms, a biting smile easily slipping on his lips despite the blush visible on his ears.

"Aren't you a lucky one?"

"Oh _very_ ," you answer with a laugh, placing the cutting board before you on the long table, then lift your gaze once again, a smirk pulling your lip up at the side " You're lucky too, I'm a very avid learner. Pretty sure I'll make an _excellent_ pupil. "

You watch as he takes a sharp breath at this statement, the colour of his ears darkening as it travels down his neck.

"Are you okay? I think you may be overheating, _teacher_."

He clears his throat and with a quick " _Fine_ " turns towards the table. He reaches for a cluster of plants that looks like a mix between radish and garlic, then pretty much shoves it in your direction.

"Here, separate the root from the leaves and take out the bulbs but try not to cut into them," he instructs quickly before reaching out for one of the previously rearranged herbs.

You smile to yourself as you proceed to do what he asked you for, extra careful as you pluck out the fiery red bulbs of the weird plant. As you do that, you note how indeed similar they are to garlic, omitting their colour and the sugary sweet smell of the cloves.

"What are those, by the way?" you ask as, while nudging out the fourth bulb. The smell is honestly a little numbing if you have to be honest.

"Morpheus' breath," replies the elf. When you look at him questioningly, you see he's carefully plucking out the very small white flowers of the violet-coloured herb he's grabbed from the earlier pile.

"They are called like this because they're the main component for sleeping blends," Ezarel continues his explanation "Which is why I told you to try to not cut into them. Some races are exceptionally responsive to its fragrance."

"Are one of those races humans?" you nudge, despite knowing that if it were a case, it still wouldn't concern you.

Not that you're going to tell him.

"That shouldn't be the case, but I don't know." You meet his gaze when he states that, his hands resting on the table and eyes focused on you, a seemingly worried crease between his brows. "Do you feel any weird effects?"

"It's not making me sleepy, per se," you mutter as you move your focus back to the task "but I do admit there's something numbing in the smell?"

"Tell me if it progresses in any way, please."

You lock your eyes with his for a moment and nod.

He seems to relax after that.

"And the plant you're plucking? What is it?"

"Violet aenan. The upper part of the plant lowers the vapour pressure of potions it's put in, but the flowers can also act as strengtheners  for different formulas. Which is why I need to pluck them out. Too much and you'll knock someone into a weeklong coma with just one drop of the potion."

Now, that's some interesting plant he's got there.

"But to have such effect, it needs to be fried and then kept in the broth long enough for it to work. In this one's case, five hours." Ezarel finishes the explanation at the same time you place down the last of the cloves.

"What now?"

"Now you need to wash the smell off your hands and then we'll switch, so that you won't get more affected by the morpheus' breaths when you cut it," replies the man while pointing to the sink in the back of  the lab.

You do as he says and soon it's you who's plucking out the flowers, which by the way look awfully similar to jasmine flowers, just smaller and on a purple stem with leaves of the same colour. At the same time, Ezarel cuts the cloves into smaller pieces a few meters away from you and by a now open window. Most certainly to get rid of the fragrance quicker.

After that, the elf shows you how to successfully fry the violet aenan stem and flowers – both separate and on a small amount of some slightly stinky algae oil. He then explains how everything should be measured just right and after adding a few leaves of what he calls sour grass he drowns the whole thing in a bottle of clear liquid that smells suspiciously close to spirits.

When that part is done, the two of you start to work on a pain-lowering potion and then on the ointment he's mentioned earlier, after lunch splitting so that Ezarel can finish the two mixtures without them taking an effect on you.

Because of this, you find yourself once again curled up with books in hand under the afternoon sun warming up the orangery. The rays provide enough light for you to scribble out spelling rules and you quickly find a rhythm for your studying. As you progress steadily, you fail to notice the change in lights and the tiredness finally catches up to you, making you slip into dreamland rather quickly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, did I fall asleep..?” you rub at your eyes to wake up before covering a yawn. The gesture's sloppy and has no right of being as adorable as he views it “Sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little surprise with this chapter as.... not only has it shown much earlier than anyone would anticipate (me included lmfao) but also it's written from a little different POV than usually? Enjoy?  
> N ofc pls do leave some feedback. I may or may not live off of it and use it as a fuel to write more

You can’t sleep at night, that he concludes quite easily after hitting the bed late and seeing light seep from the crack under your bedroom's door. Or the fact you seem to be up before him nearly every day since the wedding.

It's a question of why that lingers at the edge of his mind as he decides to teach you alchemy as a pretext to prepare something that'd help you sleep. Is it connected to the stress over having to move to an unknown world and marry a stranger or is it normal for you? Maybe a mix of all those with some twist that he has yet to learn about you? Or to help you out he should actually try to befriend you so that you don't get a chance to think he absolutely resents you?

But that's not true, is it? He's not shutting you off, even though he's still not happy about the happenings. You're actually an interesting company, no matter the heritage he was sure to resent.

As he finally finishes his work for the day and emerges from the lab, he's only slightly surprised to find you asleep on one of the orangery couches, hunched slightly with a textbook in your lap and a book open on the table.

He sighs and reaches out to you, only for his fingers to stop centimetres from your shoulder. You dislike being touched. He’s seen your reactions. And honestly, he has no right to invade your personal space without your permission.

He brings you a blanket instead, practically startling when you stir and your eyes open, irises slowly focusing on his face, right before he gets to drape the thing around your form.

“Oh, did I fall asleep..?” you rub at your eyes to wake up before covering a yawn. The gesture's sloppy and has no right of being as adorable as he views it “Sorry.”

“There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm just wondering, why didn’t you pick some more comfortable place for a nap.” With a smile he offers a hand to help you up, easily battling off the disturbing thought.

“Well, I just dozed off while reading.” You shrug before taking the offer.

He glances at the Elvish words sprawled on the pages, then muses.

“Is my language this boring?”

“Oh, it's...” you sway and he catches you, alarmed, before you fall to the ground. You stiffen a little, but thank him, and when you are standing straight again you continue, looking to the side “It's not the matter. I'm just a little tired.”

“I know," he blurts "You don’t sleep at night.”

He watches how you tense up at the statement, your eyes widening and avoiding contact as you bite on your lip.

"Which is why we made that sleeping potion today. Of course you don't have to use it but it should help with your insomnia."

"What?" When you turn in his direction, surprised, he gives you a shrug as response.

"The guard's infirmary has enough stocked to last the year. There's none here though, so I needed to make it to offer it to you."

"That's really thoughtful of you." Your muttered response makes him snort as he waits for the actual reply.

"You're my wife. We're supposed to look out for each other. Now, what do you say to the offer?"

You say "sure", but there's a frown present on your face that he doesn't know the origin of.

He tells you to head to the kitchen while he grabs the potion from the lab. Then, when he joins you, he tells you to pick up some tea as he sets the kettle on the stove.

"How about I have your favourite?" your question makes him draw away his gaze from the vial in his hand and to the open cabinet you're pointing at.

He lets out a thoughtful sound, before pulling out a familiar metal container with white roses painted on it. When he opens it, a sweet smell spreads in the air and from the corner of his eye he sees the corners of your lips twitch up in a light smile.

"I like all of them, but each on different occasions." Is what he says as he drops half a spoon into the cup you've placed on the counter beforehand, "So it's hard to pick a favourite."

"Is any of them sweet before you add in honey?"

He huffs out a laugh at that.

"Alright, fair point. If there was one like this, it'd definitely be my favourite."

Then the kettle whistles in announcement that the water's boiling and he puts the box back in its place before filling half of the cup with hot water.

He watches how you prop yourself on the counter as the two of you wait for the tea to soak through. You honestly look tired and he feels bad for not doing anything about that earlier. He hopes that the potion will help you catch up on the sleep you've lost till now, though.

When the water becomes the right colour, he adds in some cold water to cool it down a little and then proceeds to drop in four drops of the potion.

"Here." When he's done and the vial's corked, he hands you the cup of now just warm beverage.

“You have good taste” you admit after taking few sips and he grins at your words, supporting his weight on the counter behind himself.

“Of course, did you really doubt it?”

“With all the sweets you eat? I expected something more childish.”

He scoffs, but it's more for the show as he's not the least offended. You covering your yawn makes him alert though and he quickly trudges towards you when you place the cup down carefully, obviously trying your best to not spill the last of it.

“You should’ve told me...” you yawn again, sleepiness making it hard for your eyelids to be kept open “that it’ll knock me out immediately.”

"It shouldn't, actually," he replies and catches you as you lean to the side and into his space, seeking support.

"Really?" you mutter as he nudges you to move.

"Really, this amount should only start working in about fifteen to twenty minutes," explains the elf as he carefully guides you down the corridor.

You actually like how delicately he handles you, like you are made of thin glass or porcelain, or both. It brings warmth in your heart that you didn’t know existed and you smile lightly when he scoops you up with a sigh when your foot catches on the edge of the carpet. You drift to sleep immediately and he walks to your room, carefully balancing you in his arms.

"Seriously..." he sighs as he tucks you into your bed, ignoring the questioning squeaks coming from Amory until he sits on the edge of the furniture and the small companion jumps in his lap.

He brushes his fingers through the O'oluray's fur, the little animal replying with a quiet purr.

Humans don't posses magic, don't they? Most of the fae don't even have it flowing through their veins.

So why in the world would you react this way if there isn't supposed to be anything there to give such reaction?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that comments and kudos help me a lot with keeping on writing and thus would be greatly appreciated


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